


Enter the Demon Syndicate

by WinchesterWarrenSon



Series: The Ox Syndicate [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWarrenSon/pseuds/WinchesterWarrenSon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ox Syndicate is working on taking all of Orange Star City into its territory. Turtle, Monkey, and Crane are gone. All that's left is the Demon Syndicate. But with the daughter of the Ox King having a child now, things get tricky. A desperate Demon syndicate member makes a bid for power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enter the Demon Syndicate

**Author's Note:**

> Now here's where stuff gets complicated. The world of Dragon Ball is still being used, so when names of countries in our universe are used to describe the characters, it's more to denote their ethnicity and what their cultural/religious background is. Not so much implying that the actual locations exist. Though we can say they once did but don't any longer. So Dragon Ball geography is still relevant, but the words being used to describe the genetic make-up of everyone are terms that WE would use in our own universe. I am having RELIGION be the same in this fic as in our universe, but seeing that I myself am a Roman Catholic, that will be the religion I feel most comfortable writing about in depth, though I'll do what research I can and touch on other religions (Tenshinhan's and Krillin's and Yamcha's would be the most relevant, outside of Piccolo's). I am aware that the yakuza in real life is mostly (if not entirely) made up of Japanese individuals, but since this is literally my ONLY all-human AU I really couldn't tell myself to not explore headcanons for what everyone would be, and with a few of the characters the implication that they are Chinese is undeniable and it feels weird to change that. Malaysian-Arab Yamcha FTW, btw.

King Piccolo - for that is what the Demon Syndicate called their leader, as a way to combat and challenge The Ox King's authority - rarely gave his youngest son the time of day, despite said son sharing his name. Piccolo knew very little about his mother, only that she had devoted herself to King Piccolo and died because of it soon after he was born. So Piccolo, for much of his thirteen years of life, had been spent alone. 

But due to his older brothers, he did know that King Piccolo was the head of the Demon Syndicate - though they always called it Nosotros Diablos amongst themselves, Demon Syndicate was what they called it in the papers, to have it flush better with the others. Though why everyone was using English instead of their native tongues, Piccolo really didn't know. While some individual members were white sprinkled amongst the different syndicates and former syndicates, it wasn't a secret that in Orange Star, an overwhelming number of them were Asian. 

Head of the Turtle Syndicate had been a Japanese man. Head of Monkey had been a Japanese man from far in the mountains; must have traveled inward to the city at some point. Ox King was Chinese, along with his daughter, though many of the members were much more diverse. While Piccolo had never seen them with his own two eyes, he knew that The Sniper was said to be half-Malaysian, half-Arab. He didn't really know who The Sniper was supposed to be, but it wasn't a secret amongst the criminal world that the Ox Syndicate was climbing up in the ranks due to a collection of formidable individuals having joined up after fragmenting from fallen syndicates. And the Demon Syndicate was rather adept at their intel and recon. It was why they had lasted this long, though their stamina was running out....

The Sniper was the one hiding in the shadows and taking you out when you last expected it. He had been recruited six years ago. The last time a member of their group had seen the man and been able to give them even just as little information about his racial background, they were found dead the next day. 

The assassin from the Crane Syndicate, who was already pretty well known by them before he moved into the Ox Syndicate about four years ago. Chinese, brags about "third eye training." All Piccolo knew about that was that it was a Taoist discipline. (In other words, the little he bothered to read on Wikipedia was all he knew.) 

They had a Tibetan, though whether he was a former monk who was led astray or a civilian, no one could tell. 

They had an Italian who was half-built out of robot parts and a Japanese woman with a split personality and conflicting stories about who she was and where she came from.

Now, Son Goku was Filipino, and they still hadn't figured out where he had come from exactly. But he had managed to bring another Filipino - one just as brutal as Goku was - into the fold, and ever since this collection of misfits joined the Ox Syndicate, it had become unstoppable. 

It was a little weird that the once all-Japanese yakuza now had so many other varieties of Asian ethnicities and even some non-Asian, but with how the world had been changing within the last hundred years, perhaps it should have been expected.

The Demon Syndicate was wildly different from all the other local syndicates due to being the only Latino hodge-podge of disenfranchised youth and crooked adults for miles. Piccolo Jr. didn't even know how his family got here. But he could read the Japanese and Chinese characters that were plastered all over the area, and his native language was uncommon and a marketable skill. His ethnicity, unfortunately, wasn't as marketable, and with all the tattoos and body modification he had gotten at a young age (read: illegally), the thug life was the only life he was going to be able to pursue.

Piccolo Sr. had been getting dangerously close to truly pissing the Ox Syndicate off, and Piccolo was scared about what would happen. He didn't want to die. 

But he was formulating a plan. It was dangerous and possibly super stupid, but if he could pull it off, he would be able to live. 

Chichi and Goku had a son. He was four-years-old. 

His plan was . . . not the best-laid plan ever, but . . . . 

The kid was being watched by the Tibetan - a man who was basically a midget. Piccolo towered over him and he was only thirteen-years-old to . . . however old the man was. Piccolo wore a hoodie, zipped up all the way and the hood wrapped around his head, the drawstrings tightened and tied as much as he could manage. Purple wasn't the Demon Syndicate's color, but it was his favorite color, and he didn't want to get noticed right away as a threat anyway.

He had managed to get a few of his older half-brothers to help him, and they were going to be providing the distraction he needed in three.... two.... 

The Kid was swinging from the monkey bars, and that was an awful long drop for such a little kid. He was rather impressed he had the motor functions at that age to get up there as it was, but Piccolo was nervous about him dropping from such a height. 

One.... 

The Kid lost his grip on the bar and he had already let go of the other one and started to fall. He let out of a shout, and the Tibetan turned to see what was going on - only to get a punch in the face from Piano. 

Piccolo caught the Kid before he hit the ground. 

The Kid stared up at him, confused and curious. He could only see his eyes, nose, and mouth with the way that the hoodie was done up. No forehead, no chin, very minimal exposure of Piccolo's cheeks even. 

"Who're you?" the Kid asked, not having noticed that the man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the Kid was getting his ass handed to him by three huge Mexicans. 

Piccolo tried not to pay too much attention to just how adorable this half-Chinese, half-Filipino kid was. 

"I'm . . . I'm the new babysitter. Your, uh, previous one just got a lot busy, so your parents sent me to look after you for a while. It's not safe outside, so we're gonna go to my place, okay?" 

The Kid needed a lesson in stranger danger because the response Piccolo got was "okay!" and he was able to just . . . carry the kid away. 

It was disturbing how easy that had been, and it wasn't really sitting right with Piccolo at all. But he had what he had gone there for, and now it was just a matter of getting an opportunity to make a deal with Son Goku and Chichi. 

The Kid still wasn't thinking anything was weird or off when he took the hoodie off and revealed the tattoos on his face, neck, and arms. On his forehead - or rather, underneath the skin on his forehead - were two small bumps that weren't acne. Thanks to an underground body modification specialist, Piccolo had started to work on getting the Demon Syndicate trademark of "demon horns." The bumps were actually bits of plastic, steadily stretching out the skin on his forehead to make the desired effect. He had an appointment later that year to get bigger ones. (If he and the specialist lasted that long, that is....) 

Piccolo had expected the kid to start crying, but instead he just stared up at Piccolo's face, then smiled. 

"You look really cool! Like those guys in manga!" 

Piccolo wondered what kind of manga the kid had been reading or if he had just seen pictures. 

For the next few hours or so, Piccolo mostly kept the Kid entertained. It was kind of fun, actually. Piccolo hadn't really been able to just have fun and not be a criminal in a long time. The Kid had a little kid sense of humor and found hilarity in the most innocent of things, and Piccolo wondered if he had been like that at one point and he just forgot how.... 

The Kid also liked to play the "Tattoo Questions" game. 

"That's the kanji for demon!" 

"Yup." 

"Why do you have that?" 

"Papi has the same tattoo." So the Kid didn't really know about the syndicates, or if he did, he didn't know about the distinctive tattoos and features that the Demon Syndicate had. 

"Is it in the same spot on his arm?" 

"Mm-hm." 

"What about the dragon?" 

"Uh.... My . . . mi madre was born in the Year of the Dragon, and she really liked that Zodiac stuff, so there's a lot of dragon stuff just lying around and . . . ." It was the only way he could really feel connected with her. 

"Awww, that's really sweet! You're a good guy, Mr. . . ." 

"Piccolo." 

"Mr. Piccolo!" 

Days started to go by, but the Kid still wasn't suspicious, and Piccolo didn't hear from any of his relatives or other syndicate members. They had enough food for the week, so Piccolo didn't need to go anywhere for a while, so he just stayed indoors with the Kid. 

He had thought he'd have gotten some form of contact by now, but Piccolo didn't realize he underestimated the ruthlessness of the Ox Syndicate. 

He and the Kid had sat down to lunch when Piccolo heard the front door get kicked down. Piccolo got up to move and first he moved to grab Gohan, his immediate thought to protect him. He had grown very attached to him over the last few days, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. 

The kitchen door was forcibly swung open, and Piccolo hugged Gohan tightly to him, surprised by the swiftness of whoever had invaded his empty home. 

The Kid's face brightened up. 

"It's okay, Mr. Piccolo! It's my daddy!" 

That was exactly why Piccolo was scared shitless. 

Maybe the Kid couldn't see it, but Son Goku was bloodstained and angry and was _going to kill him_ if he didn't think of something. He had a wooden pole in his hand and little else. 

Rumor had it that when Son Goku was on a true rampage, he used the pole instead of a gun just so he could properly channel his fury and not murder everyone who crossed his path, including civilians. Either the pole or his bare hands. 

"Daddy?" the Kid said, perhaps not as blind to the blood as Piccolo first thought. "What happened, Daddy?" 

Son Goku didn't speak at first. 

"There have been some bad people Daddy had to take care of, Gohan. But it's safe now, so we'll be going home," Goku said. 

"Oh! Yay, Mr. Piccolo, it's safe outside again! Hey, do you wanna meet my mom? She's real nice." 

Piccolo had no idea what to do or say, but he felt like he was going to die today. 

Goku looked down at Gohan, eyebrows furrowed and still looking rather menacing. 

" _Piccolo_ and I are going to have a talk. Go meet Yamcha outside, Gohan," Goku said. 

Piccolo didn't let go of Gohan, even as the kid squirmed to get out of his arms. Gohan twisted around to get a good look at Piccolo. 

"What's the matter? Are you scared to talk to Daddy?" 

". . . _Sí_ . . . ." 

After a beat, Piccolo realized the Kid didn't speak the least bit of Spanish, so he forced himself to speak English, since they all understood it. 

Gohan's face brightened up. 

"It's okay, Daddy's not gonna be mean or anything. Daddy's real nice, too!" 

He was going to die, and he had a feeling Son Goku was going to kill him slowly. This was a horrible idea. 

"C'mon," Gohan said, taking hold of Piccolo's tattooed hand and climbing out of Piccolo's lap. He basically pulled Piccolo to his feet and started leading him to the outside. "It'll be fine!" 

Son Goku followed behind them. Piccolo could feel his glare burning into his back. 

Piccolo felt like he understood that this Yamcha was the Sniper. He wore a suit, struck Piccolo as looking Malaysian, and he was currently wearing a skullcap that just felt like it was being worn due to Middle Eastern cultural or religious habit. He doubted the man was a practicing anything, however, due to the long hair. (But really, what did Piccolo know, and what did Piccolo care, _he was going to die today_.) 

Yamcha seemed surprised to see Piccolo still standing, but he said nothing as they got into Son Goku's car and drove into Ox Syndicate territory, where Piccolo knew his fate lay. 

It was mostly a quiet drive outside of an odd but pointless exchange between Goku and Yamcha. 

"What's with the thing on your head?" 

". . . I went to the mosque today." 

" _Why?_ " 

"'Cause sometimes I hear my grandmother's voice in my head telling me to go and then I feel bad, okay?" 

Piccolo could see Goku's mouth starting to form the statement "You kill people for a living" but then he seemed to remember Gohan was in the car and stopped. 

During the drive there, Piccolo himself was praying, because he didn't know what else to do. If he somehow survived this, he'd buy the most expensive margarita making stuff he could afford, some packs of cigarettes, and a bouquet of fresh roses for Santa Muerte if she just somehow saved him. He'd get a new tattoo, even, of her, in tribute, just please _please don't let me die_. 

They arrived at what Piccolo could only assume was the place of his death, and Goku opened the door and pulled Piccolo out. Gohan hopped out and gripped onto Piccolo's hand again. 

Chichi was just as terrifying as her husband, but she was so relieved to have her son back. Gohan let go of Piccolo's hand and ran to her, and Piccolo forced himself to keep his eyes open and not flinch as he knew his protection had just gotten away from him. 

It took him a while for Piccolo to realize what was happening but . . . Gohan was _vouching_ for him. 

"Mr. Piccolo took good care of me! Krillin had something happen, so he took me to where it was safe, and we had a lot of fun, but no one else showed up, even though he talked about his parents, they never came, I wonder why that was. Mr. Piccolo, where're your parents?" 

He was an inquisitive kid, and Piccolo felt it was best to just answer the question, despite focusing on not peeing himself in fear. 

"Madre is dead. I don't know where Papi is." 

"Also dead," Son Goku said under his breath. It sounded distressingly loud in Piccolo's ear. 

This seemed to inspire pity in Gohan, and all of a sudden, the four-year-old was asking if Piccolo could stay with them because "he's so nice and fun and no one should be without a mommy like Mommy" and Piccolo couldn't really focus on what was being said, despite it being important, because he was so. fucking. scared. 

He was placed, untouched, in a room in the basement, which seemed like it was actually some sort of dungeon but modern, and he knew Son Goku and Chichi were discussing with each other what they should do with him. 

In the dark, he couldn't really see what was across his place of imprisonment, but he could hear someone across from him. 

The next morning, Son Goku came down the stairs in fresh, non-bloodstained clothes. He grabbed Piccolo and drug him over to across the hall. 

Laying in the cell there was Krillin, beaten up and bloodied and bruised. 

"This is what Gyumao ordered to be done to him when Gohan went missing," Son Goku said. 

Piccolo swallowed hard, not looking away from the result of violence. 

"He's my _best friend_ and would rather have _died_ than let anything bad happen to Gohan." 

Son Goku turned Piccolo around and grabbed Piccolo's throat and squeezed, pushing him against the wall. 

"Your _father_ wasn't so kind to you. He ratted you out like you were _trash_. It didn't save him." 

Goku's eyes were hard and unflinching, and Piccolo wondered if he was born that way or hardened. 

"But. Gohan is unharmed." 

He let go of Piccolo's throat. Piccolo stared at Goku, not daring to take his eyes off of him. 

"You took good care of my boy, even made sure he wasn't scared. Why?" 

Piccolo swallowed hard. 

"I - I couldn't hurt a sweet little boy like that," Piccolo said slowly, trying to remember all the English words he wanted to use. He could speak English just fine, it was just he was so fucking scared right then. "I j-just wanted some insurance." Because he didn't want to die. 

Son Goku stared down at him for a long time. 

"How old are you?" 

"Thirteen." 

Goku crossed his arms, frowning and thinking about something. 

"You're the last living member of your syndicate. Did you know that?" 

Piccolo shook his head. 

"You don't have anyone left now. And looking like that, no one's gonna take you into the civilian life. So.... how 'bout it?" 

Piccolo was confused at first. 

"How about . . . what?" 

"Joining the Ox Syndicate. Being Gohan's personal body guard, 24/7." 

Piccolo's eyes widened. 

"We need Krillin on other jobs, and Gohan can't be left unattended ever. He likes you. He told us how you caught him when he fell off the monkey bars." 

Piccolo nodded, then took a deep breath. 

"I'll do it." 

He had to go through a hazing ritual before joining, but he joined. He got another tattoo appointment for a big tattoo on his back of La Madrina, dressed in black and carrying her mighty scythe and knowledgeable globe. It would take a long time to finish the line work and then color it, but it was worth it, and an altar to Santa Muerte was the first thing he worked on setting up in his new bedroom in the home of Son Goku. 

He was going to live. Or at least, his death wouldn't be at the hands of Son Goku. 

With how much he got to play with the Kid, he couldn't say he regretted the decision.


End file.
